CSI: Ficlet Collection
by PrintDust
Summary: A collection of Ficlets. Should be read as standalone stories.
1. Alcohol

**New ABC ficlet. Yay! **

**A is for Alcohol**

The contents of the bottle taunted Sara as they sloshed around in their container. She wanted to succumb to the alcohol's call, aware of the relief she knew it brought, but scared of the pain that she knew came too. Sitting alone at the table, she knew what she wanted to do, and what she needed to do. The problem was, what she wanted and what she needed were two separate things.

Sighing, she snatched the bottle off the table, its weight familiar in her hand. She unscrewed the cap, the strong smell hitting her in the face. Tipping the bottle, she watched the clear contents swirl around.

Without even looking up, she felt his accusing eyes on her. He was watching her and waiting for her to make a decision from where he stood in the doorway. She wanted to tell him not to judge her, but she knew he only wanted the best for her. She looked up at him, "I can't."

He walked over to her. "Don't be so dramatic dear. It doesn't suit you." He picked up the bottle. "Gimme your hand." He let some of the liquid soak into a cotton ball as she grudgingly gave him her hand.

She whined as the alcohol stung the cut he was cleaning, a battle wound from making dinner.

"Why don't we go out tonight."

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**Please let us know what you think.**


	2. Babinski Reflex

**Thanks for the reviews on A. We hope you enjoy B!**

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"I like the way her feet do this," Sara spoke softly demonstrating to her husband by running her ring finger down one tiny foot, the decent beginning with tiny toes and ending pressed against a heel small enough to fit in her palm.

"It's called the 'babinski reflex'. It will disappear in a couple months all together. It can be considered evidence of evolution." Grissom told her from where he was perched on the edge of the hospital bed, peering at the infant propped up on Sara's knees.

"I think she should keep it," Sara concluded, continuing to explore the 6lbs.2 oz. bundle on her lap. "She has more hair than the other babies," she commented, stroking a soft brown wisp.

"She has your hair," Grissom played with a lock of his wife's hair where it fell over her shoulders. She had taken to wearing it longer than he had ever seen it.

"God, help her," Sara muttered, tracing the infant's cheek, rosy and chubby. "She has your ears, and eyes, and," her brow pinched a little as her daughter let out a strangled cry, "apparently your effect on me."

Opening her gown she, with Grissom's help, lifted the baby to her breast and positioned her as the nurses had shown them. The baby latched on immediately and Sara adjusted the newborn's mouth to make them both comfortable.

"She definitely has your appetite."

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**Hope you liked it. Please tell us what you think!**


	3. Cough Syrup

**Thanks for the reviews on part B. We're hoping you like C as well!**

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Sara coughed miserably and curled up tighter on the couch, snuggling further under her blanket. Hank, who she had startled awake looked up at her for a moment before laying his head back down on her lap.

"Grissom, I need another blanket," she called out, dreading getting up. "Grissom!" She yelled again when he didn't answer.

"Yes dear?" He asked sticking his head out of the office doorway.

"It's freezing in here."

"Actually, it's warm in here; you're burning up."

"I need another blanket, I'm shivering."

"It's your body's natural solution to the cold."

"A blanket works better," she said, giving him her best pointed stare.

"Alright Sara, I'll be right back," Grissom told her over his shoulder heading for the stairs. Sara turned back to the television where there was an 'I Love Lucy' re-run playing. She moaned miserably into her hand when another coughing fit subsided.

"You should take some more cough syrup," Gil suggested when he came back downstairs a few minutes later, a down blanket in hand. "Scoot," he instructed Hank who jumped clumsily off the couch. "Lie down." He said firmly.

"And to whom are you speaking?" Sara asked.

"You dear."

"Really. Because that tone could have easily passed for the one you use on the dog," Sara commented, already shifting to stretch out across the couch.

"Sorry," her husband apologized, draping a third blanket over her.

Sara coughed harshly in response, barely getting her cast incased hand up in time to cover her mouth.

"Right, cough syrup," Grissom said turning to the coffee table turned pharmacy. The small black surface was covered in pill and medicine bottles, scar ointments, burn creams, medical tape, gauze, and hot water bottles.

"No, it's poison," Sara moaned pulling the latest addition to her blanket collection over her face.

"'It will cure what ails you…'" Grissom read from the bottle.

"That's false advertising," Sara's words came muffled through the blanket. "It's a symptom reliever, not a cure. I don't trust liars, or their serums."

"It will make you feel better, bottom line," Gil attempted to hold a syrup filled spoon out to where he assumed her mouth was under the blanket.

"I just need my bed," she pulled the blanket down, her pale face sallow.

"Which you refused to stay in…"

"It's boring there!" Sara defended. "The TV in here is way better."

"It's the same TV. And I offered to move this one in there."

"Why when I can come down here," brown eyes eyed the spoon, crinkling at the corners a little.

She watched her husband's eyes crinkle too, deep lines of fatigue pulling the corners in, confusion slightly raising one eyebrow. "But you just sai- never mind. Open wide," he grinned, slipping the spoon between her lips when they parted in protest.

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**Please tell us what you think.**


	4. Decorating

Sara frowned at the coloured paper her husband was holding up to her. The paper was printed with half a dozen coloured boxes, none of which appealed to her. Shrugging he put the colour swatch back and continued looking at the selection. "What about a softer yellow?" She suggested bracing her lower back with her hands.

"I still like pink. She is a girl after all."

"I thought we agreed we would avoid sexist stereotyping until she is older." Sara shook her head picking up a green sample. "Green is unisex. I think it would be nice. And that way we can still go with the butterfly theme."

"Green and pink?" Grissom interjected raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"Green _and_ pink?" Sara asked her voice appalled.

"It would be nice. Look." He leaned across and picked up a soft green card and held it up beside the pink he had been eyeing since they arrived. "It looks nice."

Sara couldn't help but smile. "Well you've come a long way from stark white walls and cement floors huh?" She took the colour swatches from him and tried to form a vision of what they could do with the colours. In truth the pink and green did go nicely together and he really seemed to have his heart set on his daughter having a pink nursery. She supposed having the green too was a good enough compromise.

"So?" He asked shoving his hands his pockets.

"So I guess you were right. Pink isn't so bad." She handed him back the cards. "Go get them mixed. I'll get the drop sheets and rollers."

"Don't forget trays and tape." He reminded her already heading over to the counter with their selection.

Sara rolled her eyes and headed towards the end of the aisle and started tossing the necessary items into their cart. Stopping on her way back she spotted some stencils fastened to a shelf. Picking up a package she tossed it on top of four shrink wrapped rollers. Spotting her husband, still leaning against the paint counter she made her way over to him the cart and her belly leading the way.

"Hey." She greeted and he turned around to face her.

"Did you get everything?" He peered into the metal basket, shifting things to be sure.

On any other occasion Sara would probably be annoyed about him checking her work but he was so excited about getting started on their daughters room that she could only smile. "Yes, I have everything. We're good to go." She assured him leaning her forearms on the cart pushing it forward a little to stretch her sore back. Her discomfort must have become evident on her face because Gil moved behind her and rubbed her back where there had been a history of aches.

"You okay?" He asked.

Nodding Sara closed her eyes enjoying the pressure and warmth of his hand on her back.

"Uhhh, your paint's ready." An awkward voice interrupted her peace. She opened her eyes to a gangly teenager holding up a couple cans of paint.

Grissom took them by their thin metal handles and nodded his thanks at the kid.

XXXX

Slumping tiredly into a folding black chair that Grissom had been using to stand on Sara wiped the sweat that had gathered on her forehead with the back of her hand. Surveying the fresh coat of paint on the nursery walls Sara rubbed her bump pleased. She glanced up at her husband who was still fussing with a stencil on the wall. "Griss, the baby isn't going to care if the species of butterfly on her wall really exists or not. She won't even care whether the wings are symmetrical. She'll eat, poop, and sleep and love you anyway."

He ignored her comment and continued carefully filling in the wings of the painted insect.

"Alright, well you have fun with that. I'm going to take a shower and get out of these clothes." Her hands were already unzipping the white lab issued coveralls they had borrowed for their decorating; hers being extra-large these days.

Getting no response she waddled out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom undressing as she went. "You know, you could join me." She leaned out the bathroom door calling in the direction of the nursery. When he again didn't answer she rolled her eyes. "Or not." She added under her breath climbing into the shower. "Griss?" Sara called again lifting Gil's robe off the hook on the back of the door she slipped it on her shoulders. Pressing her hands against her lower back she waddled down the hall to the open nursery door. "Sure you don't want to come?"

Looking up from his crouched position Grissom's eyes roamed over her body, her naked flesh peeking out through the parted material of the open robe. Unable to resist he got to his feet abandoning the butterflies on the wall and made his way across the room to his favourite one. Parting the robe further he slid admiring hands over her soft exposed skin. "Hmmm," he hummed in his throat leaning over her belly to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. "A shower sounds wonderful."

Tugging at the hem of Grissom's pink stained t shirt Sara pulled it over his head, pressing kisses against his upper lip and jaw line as she worked his pants off. "Mmmm," she groaned against his pink and green peppered cheek feeling him hard against her hip, "I love decorating with you."

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Please let us know what you think.


	5. Fukui

Thanks for the feedback on the last ficlet.

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"You got to name the dog," Sara reasoned lifting her head to look at him from where she was spread out across the sofa.

"I had the dog before we were together," Gil closed the newspaper he was reading and gave her his full attention except the part of his brain that was wondering how she could pick up a conversation seamlessly two days later as though it had never ended. He found himself constantly wondering how he was supposed to keep up, if maybe he should start taking notes.

"But you still got to name him."

He wasn't sure what point she was trying to make and so he decided to just keep his mouth shut.

"And I've never really got to name anything short of my papers in college and a cat I found in my backyard when I was ten." He hand caressed her swollen tummy shifting from side to side as the baby inside rolled.

"What did you name it?" Grissom asked. "The cat," he quickly clarified.

Sara smiled a little at the memory, "Fukui."

"Fukui?" Grissom moved a little closer to her, sliding onto the couch at her feet and lifting them into her lap. Rubbing his thumbs over her swollen ankles he peered at her over her belly, "As in Kinichi Fukui? The chemist?"

"And Nobel Prize winner in 1981."

"That's very sweet honey, and surprisingly geekier than I had imagined, but you named your cat Fukui?" He glanced at her bump afraid to ask what she had come with for their baby.

Sara shrugged, "So my point is that I should get to pick the name."

"We could pick it together."

"No," Sara sighed. "Gil, we can't even agree on what movie to see or what to have for dinner, never mind what name to pick."

"Well it is going to need a name Sara. We can't just call it… Fukui…."

"What's wrong it Fukui?" Sara's tone lifted dangerously.

Backpedalling Grissom's brain fought hard to determine as way to reverse the situation and say the right thing. She must have taken his silence the wrong way because she pulled her feet back and unceremoniously struggled to them. "Sara, I…" he began wondering how to talk down one large walking hormone. One would have thought after eight months of dealing with the emotional time bomb his wife had become he would have known how to avoid this situation to begin with.

"Its fine Grissom," the "F" word made him cringe and he reached for her hand.

They were already occupied, tucked into the spots between her sides and her upper arms, the limbs crossed over her chest balanced on top of her bump. Without another word she stalked out of the room and into the back of house, presumably to consume the chocolate stash she kept under her side of the bed, which she thought he didn't know about.

Sighing Grissom hung his head and looked down at the tiny white kitten sitting on the carpet watching him suspiciously, tiny paws pinning a cork and string mouse to the floor. "What do you think Fukui?"

The kitten flopped onto its side, digging its teeth into the abdomen of toy.

"Yeah… me too."

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Please let us know what you think!


	6. Great

Sara followed the length of the darkened hallway, her fingers brushing over the frames that adorned it's walls; images of a grinning little girl and a serious looking little boy. Stopping at one in particular she found herself staring into the face of Mark Hollinger at around age six, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight that his cap failed to block out, his hands wrapped tightly around the baseball bat resting on his shoulder. She leaned in closer to inspect the prop and her mouth formed a thin line, she wondered if anyone could have guessed that in a few years his father would have used that very bat to pound the boys head into the tile of the kitchen floor. Shuddering she stepped back from the wall and snapped a picture, trying to detach herself from the tragedy of the situation. Looking over her shoulder towards the living room she blinked rapidly as her eyes absorbed the dull light that radiated from a lap that had tumbled to the floor, its bulb, somehow undamaged.

From her position she could barely see the tiny hand that belonged to half a decade old Kelsey Hollinger who had been discovered stretched out across the living room floor, the telephone clutched in her tiny hands. Based on the blood smears on the keys, Sara had determined that the child had been trying to dial 9-1-1 when she had been attacked by her father. The call had never been received.

"Sara, is that you?" Greg's voice called cautiously from the master bedroom.

Shaking her head she carried on towards the doorway, clearing her throat. "Yeah, it's me." She paused in the doorway to snap some pictures of the blood smeared doorknob. Kelsey, most likely, had left the handprint, after discovering her mother's body.

"I think she was poisoned," Greg commented from his position on the other side of the room where he was taking pictures of Mrs. Hollinger. "Probably the first to die. Maybe sometime last night? David has determined that she was pregnant, about five months…" Greg trailed off, and Sara didn't miss his eyes that shifted quickly to her own abdomen.

Self consciously, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. Her eyes drifted over the remains of Stacey Hollinger and her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Feeling her throat tighten she played with the cord on department issues digital camera. Making her way over the bathroom door she kept her back carefully to Greg as she busied herself with processing the other side of the room.

"Sara… should I call Catherine? Are you okay?"

"Greg…" She placed a yellow marker, labeled 119, on top of the dresser next to a bottle of liquid toilet bowl cleaner. Taking a deep breath she sighed, "I'm fine, Greg. Just great…"

A/N

If anyone has any suggestions for letter "H" send them along in a review. :) Cheers.


	7. Elephants

"_Elephants have big ears!" _Emma told her mother enthusiastically, her tiny hands formed the signs then pointed at the book she had been reading through breakfast.

Looking up at her three-year-old daughter, Sara made her way over to the toddler. _"You're right. Do you see the elephants nose? That is a big nose." _ She pushed an errant curl behind her daughters little ear and fastened it in place with a butterfly clip. Sara's hands formed the signs much more clumsily than her daughter, a result of language acquisition taking place later in life.

"_What does that say?" _Her daughter asked her, brown eyes turned upwards, her finger pointing to a block of text on the page.

Sara read the page and searched her brain for the sign for Africa. Emma waited patiently while her mother thought carefully about how to present the English words accurately into her daughter's first language, American Sign Language. "_The book is comparing African and Asian elephants. See? The ears are different. And the shapes of their heads are different."_

"_When I grow up, I want to be an elephant," Emma_ stated proudly.

A smile tugged at the corners of Sara's lips. _"Why do you want to be an elephant?"_

"_I want to be a big girl. As big as you are." _

Sara cocked an eyebrow and looked up at her husband who was busy reading the morning paper on the other side of table. Reaching over she wrapped her knuckles on the wood surface, drawing his attention to her. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"_What have you been telling her?"_

Gil shrugged his shoulders and looked down at Emma who was looking between the two of them, following their conversation. _"She must have learned it at school."_

Sara gently tapped her daughters shoulder to get her attention, "_What else did daddy tell you elephants have?"_

"_Big tummies!" _The little girl's cheeks puffed to emphasize her point. "_I saw him tell Uncle Greg. He said you are as big as an elephant." _

Both mother and daughter turned their eyes towards the man sitting across from them as he slowly got to his feet and made his way over to them. Sara's expression was one of amusement as he slid his arms around his wife's frame and rested his hands on her swollen belly for a moment before he moved around her in order to communicate.

"_Greg asked me how you are doing, and I-" _He shrugged and looked at her apologetically. _"If it helps, I also said you look beautiful."_

"_It helps…" _Her husband looked hopeful. "_A little bit." _His posture deflated slightly.

Emma tugged on her father's sleeves, successfully getting both of her parent's attention, "_I like elephants. They're beautiful." _

Pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead, Sara made her way back over to the counter to continue adding veggies to the slow cooker.

Emma reached over and tapped her father's hip. _"What does this say?"_

Grissom took a seat beside his daughter, "_Mommy elephants are pregnant for 22 months. That is almost two years. When their baby is born it is about 250 lbs."_

The three year old looked over at her mother skeptically then back at her father. "_When mommy has an elephant will it be an African or Asian one?"_

Gently closing the book Gil picked up his daughter. "_It's a surprise. Come on, let's go outside to play."_

"_Okay." _The toddler wiggled loose and slid down to the floor and ran to get her shoes. "_Come help me."_

Looking up at his wife, Grissom found her watching him too, her face lit up with a smile.


	8. House Hunting

Thanks for Moochiecat for making suggestions for the theme of this ficlet. Cheers.

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"I don't know," Sara sighed, resting her hands on her lower back. "It's kind of far from Emma's school… And the layout isn't exactly deaf friendly… I thought we were looking for something more open concept… Didn't you tell them we wanted something open concept?"

"Yes, Sara. I told them-" Grissom paused when Emma's head appeared around the doorframe. Picking up his hands he turned to his wife and started signing, "_I did inform the agent that we are interested in an-"_ He paused thoughtfully, trying to think of a way to convey "open concept" in ASL. While he was thinking he felt a gentle tug on his pant leg, just below his knee. Looking down he found himself staring into chocolate brown eyes, bright with tears.

"_What's wrong?" _He asked his three-year-old daughter gently, slowly crouching down until he found himself at eye level with her.

Sniffling, Emma rubbed her eyes before walking into her father's arms and resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Large arms wrapped themselves around the little girl and gave her a gentle squeeze before moving back so he could see her clearly. "_Why are you crying?_"

"_I don't want to move here,_" the toddler signed, fresh tears building up in here eyes again.

Grissom looked to his wife who simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Turning his attention back to Emma he asked her, "_Why don't you want to move here?"_

"_I don't like it."_

"_Why don't you like it?_"

"_I have no toys here!_" The little girl signed, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "_And my bed is not here!_"

Gil's mouth formed the shape of an 'o'. He glanced at Sara again who was wearing a look of amusement. Emma's eyes followed her father's sightline to look at her mother, and then made their way back to her father.

Sara slowly made her way over to the twosome and, using her husband's shoulder to steady herself, eased her way into a sitting position on the floor next to her family. "_We haven't decided yet if we want to buy this house. But, if we do, we are going to bring our stuff with us._" She explained to her daughter.

"_Do you know a big truck? That has a back door that opens upwards and has a ramp in the back?_" Gil asked his daughter, using ASL to describe the truck to Emma. When she shook her head negatively he went on to explain. "_Well, when someone moves from one house, to another one, people rent a big truck. And they put all of their furniture-_"

"_And toys!" _Emma jumped in, seeing where her father was going with his explanation.

"_Toys too. They put everything in the truck and drive it to their new house and then put everything in their new house,"_ Gil finished as Sara wiped a tear off their daughter's cheek.

They both watched as Emma's brow furrowed as her brain worked to process the information. Finally she nodded. "_Okay. We can put Hank in there too so he can come with us." _Smiling, she turned around and ran back towards the hallway. "_Come see the room I want."_

Grissom was the first to get up. With one hand on her elbow and the other on her back he helped Sara up too, then, hand in hand, the couple followed their bouncing toddler down the hall.

Sara was the first to burst out laughing, followed by her husband a split second later at the sight of their daughter, standing proudly in the master bathroom, built for two, Jacuzzi tub.

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Any suggestions for the letter "I"?


	9. Icing

Between a brand new baby, a precocious three-year-old, a new house, and her husband's birthday party, Sara's hands were full, to say the least. Both literally and figuratively, she thought wistfully as she looked for at her son who refused to sleep while not in his mother's arms.

Feeling a tug on her sleeve she looked down at her daughter. Sara bit back a grin as her eyes swept over Emma's icing covered face and hands. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

_I like chocolate icing_, Emma signed, then licked her palm. _Does the baby like icing too? _She asked, reaching over to hold her little brother's hand.

_I don't think he likes icing. Remember daddy and I told you Patrick likes milk? _Sara asked, placing the baby in his seat on the kitchen table. She waited nervously, crossing her fingers that he wouldn't start to cry again. When he didn't stir she breathed a sigh of relief. Crossing back over to her daughter Sara picked up an icing knife.

Emma furrowed her small face, looking very much like her mother. _From your breasts_, she stated, recalling the information her parents had given her.

_That's right_, Sara ran her fingers through Emma's curls then turned to examine the cake they had baked that morning. She raised her eyebrows as she took in the deep valley in the middle of it. _What happened?_

_I ate it! _Emma let out a giggle.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Sara closed her eyes and then looked at the clock. There wouldn't be enough time to bake another cake, let it cool, then ice it before her husband arrived home. Counting to ten she looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath. Hot tears swelled in her eyes before she could stop them and she swallowed around a lump that had formed in her throat.

That was how her husband found her a few minutes later when he arrived home from work early to surprise his family. Pausing in the doorway his eyes swept over the sight before him.

His dog was eating what looked to be chocolate cake off the floor, his daughter was covered in brown icing as though she had been using it for finger painting, and his brand new son was letting out an impressive wail from his carrier on the table. And finally, his wife was standing in the middle of all of it, tears sliding silently down her cheeks, her eyes swollen and red.

Making a mental checklist in his head, he determined that the first thing he would need to take care of is soothing the newest addition to their family.

Putting down his briefcase he lifted Emma off the stool that she was currently climbing on and placed her on the floor. _Stay there,_ he instructed. _Don't touch anything._

Giving her a pat on the head he straightened up and checked his son over. Finding him dry and apparently recently fed he popped his soother back into his tiny mouth. With one finger he held it in place while he wrapped the blanket more firmly around him.

"I'm sorry, Gil," Sara whispered. "I just can't seem to keep up with everything and now your birthday is ruined…"

Taking her arm he turned her around slowly. _I'll put the kids down for a nap while you take a shower okay?_

Nodding, Sara sniffled and turned to leave the kitchen. Catching her wrist quickly he guided her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Swaying slowly he pressed a kiss to her forehead then leaned in to whisper in her ear, "We'll talk when you get back."

Sara nodded again and offered him a tiny smile before ducking out of the kitchen and disappearing down the hall.

Turning around Gil sighed at the sight of his daughter using chocolate icing to draw on the floor at her feet. Grissom stomped his foot to get her attention.

Feeling the vibration she looked up at him and gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. _Come on. Let's take a bath then go for a nap._

Standing up from her crouching position Emma crossed over to him and slipped one sticky little had into his. Gil scooped her up into his arms and settled her on his hip before picking up the entire carrier and heading toward the children's rooms which were arranged in a Jack & Jill style with a bathroom joining them. Crossing through Emma's room, he made quick work of bathing her and washing her hair. He toweled her off and helped her to use the potty before putting her pajamas on and putting her to bed.

Patrick was quick to get settled as well. With both kids in bed he made his way down the hall to the bedroom where he found his wife pulling on a pair of pajamas that were a little bit snug around her post partum belly and hips.

"Feeling better?" He asked, crossing over to her and wrapping his arms around her.

"Yeah, thanks," she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Sorry about that…"

"Don't you apologize," Gil squeezed her. "Tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing," She sighed.

"That simply isn't true, Sara," he told her, pushing curls that matched his daughter's behind her ears.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she dropped onto the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap. "I guess things are a little overwhelming with everything going on…"

"… and you're dealing with all of it while your body is recovering from giving birth and your hormones are on overdrive," he finished, his voice soft and full of understanding.

Sara nodded, dropping her chin.

"Let's just forget about the party, honey. I don't need a party," He told her, pulling her into his arms. "We can go out for dinner, and then have some frozen yogurt, and everything will be fine."

"Catherine will kill us," she sniffed, looking down at their hands. "And Patrick will cry through dinner…"

Taking in her arms again he kissed her forehead. "Catherine will forgive us, and fine, we'll stay in."

"The cake is still ruined," Sara sighed, beginning cave.

Gil shrugged, "Who needs a cake. Emma had the right idea. We'll have icing straight from the container." He pressed a kiss to her mouth to stop her from protesting. "The only thing I need to have a happy birthday is right here."


	10. Jealous

Sara woke to what smelled suspiciously of chicken noodle soup and a shriek of laughter that could only have come from her three-year-old daughter. Looking over at the time she found that she had slept away most of the afternoon. She let out a miserable groan as she slowly got out of bed. Her body ached all over and she had a pounding headache. Not to mention a miserable cough and chills. It had all started a week prior when Emma had been sent home from school early with a fever.

Sara had spent the subsequent days looking after a very ill toddler and a cranky four-month-old who had picked up the flu from a very well meaning big sister who had only wanted to help mommy care for him. Little hands had spread germs very quickly through the house and the infants immune system was now match.

Now, six days later, the baby was healthy again, though still cranky as ever, and his sister had rediscovered her energy and love for all things loud and busy. Their mother, however, was not up for much at all, having been hit harder than either of her children and with every single symptom.

Sara wrapped her robe around herself and tied it closed before heading towards the kitchen. She passed Patrick, who was spending some time on his tummy on the living room floor, apparently unsupervised, occupied by a stuffed cricket toy that chirped each time he wrapped his chubby baby hand around its leg. She stopped to watch him for a few moments and was rewarded with a gummy grin and a small squeal. "Hi, my beautiful boy," she blew him a kiss. Deciding that he would be okay for a few more moments on his own, continued her trek to the kitchen, coughing into the crook of her elbow.

Stepping over Patrick she leaned against the doorframe and froze. Although the blue eyes that turned to look her over matched those of her husband exactly, they definitely did not belong to Gilbert Grissom.

Blinking in confusion she looked around the room. The kitchen, that had been neglected for the last week, that had been cluttered and downright scungy, was now tidied and cleaned. Crossing her arms, Sara considered all of the ways that she would punish her husband if he had anything to do with the fact that his mother was there.

"_Sara, you look terrible! You're so pale and drawn!_" her mother in law exclaimed in American Sign Language.

Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes and reminded herself that blunt and direct communication was normative in Deaf culture. Instead, she nodded, and offered Betty Grissom a small smile before she ambled into the kitchen.

"_Gil emailed me and told me you were sick and struggling to take care of the house and the children,_" the elder Mrs. Grissom explained. "_I decided that I should come over and help you. And it's a good thing too because just as I arrived Gil received a call from the LVPD to assist them with a case. Probably something to do with insects._"

Next to her, sitting on the counter with a cookie and cup of milk, Emma waved her small hand to get the attention of her Grandma and Mom. With the rooms attention on her she signed, "_Do you know fireflies? They have lights on their bums and they glow at nighttime. Daddy showed them to me._"

"_She's brilliant!_" Betty told Sara then gave Emma a kiss. "_She must get that from her father. His father was brilliant too._" The elder woman turned back to face her daughter-in-law.

Sara rolled her eyes, because she, according to her mother, had no intelligence to offer her children. Sighing, she wished she had stayed in bed. The thought was reinforced when a dizzy spell struck her and she gripped the edge of the counter to remain upright. Blinking rapidly, to clear her vision, she watched her daughter and mother-in-law interact in a way that Sara found herself a little bit jealous of. Betty Grissom communicated so easily and fluently with Emma, compared to Sara's own fumbling awkward hand movements. She did understand that it wasn't surprising, considering that American Sign Language was not her native, nor natural language, but it still stung a little bit.

Using the counter to support herself, she walked over to the fridge and pulled it open, hoping that there would be some ginger ale left. Resting a hand on her stomach, she picked up the bottle, disappointed to find the bottle empty.

Emma let out another shriek of laughter and Sara looked over to see the older woman showing the little girl an ASL poem about kittens and milk. The toddler's eyes were bright full of laughter and Sara frowned. Tucking her chin into her chest, she turned to leave the room. Sometime's it really sucked not sharing a native language with your child.

Suddenly she heard a tap on the counter and she looked over her shoulder. Her mother-in-law motioned with her hand to invite her to join them. "_Emma suggested that we teach you a poem,_" she suggested. "_I think that's a great idea._"

Nodding, Sara crossed over to them and watched as Emma slowly recited the poem, her eyes fixed on his Grandmother who cued her when she got confused or forgot a part. As she watched, she felt an arm slide around her shoulders she was pulled into a gentle hug. Looking over at her husband's mother, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "_Thank you,_" she signed.

"_You'll pick it up_," Betty encouraged. "_You're doing a great job. Emma is very lucky, she had had many opportunities that most of the children that I teach have not. She has opportunities that would have had me 'green with envy' as a child. She has parents who accept her completely as she is, who respect her language and her culture._"

Nodding, Sara felt tears build in her eyes and she scrubbed them with the back of her hand.

"_I'll get the baby so you can feed him. Get some soup,_" Betty nodded to the stove. "_Don't worry. It's Vegan, I remembered._" Giving her daughter in law a final pat on the shoulder, the elder Mrs. Grissom bustled out of the room, leaving Sara to serve herself and care for her daughter.

Emma's arms reached forward and Sara slipped her hands under the toddler's and lifted her onto her hip. The little girl's head fell to rest on her mother's shoulder and Sara pulled her into a tight hug.


	11. Kindergarten

The tiny girl, whose fingers were wrapped tightly around hers, gave her head a shake, causing her curls to bounce, "_I don't want to go._" She signed, sticking her lower lip out and stopping to look up at her mother.

Sara stopped walking too, just a few feet from the kindergarten room door. Turning around, she kneeled down until she found herself at eyelevel with her daughter. Her eyes swept over a brand new pair of black Mary Janes, white socks, up to a red and navy blue dress with a pattern of apples and books decorating it. Reaching up, Sara fixed a red ribbon that she had tied that morning around a curly pigtail, and then adjusted the little girl's bangs. "_What are you worried about?"_

"_My tummy hurts,_" Emma pouted further, looking nervously towards the door down the hall.

Sara followed her daughter's sightline, "_Wow, isn't that nice? Can you read that?_" She asked Emma, nodding towards the large paper that had been taped to the door.

Emma shook her head, slowly, "_Apples?_" She guessed, looking at the stickers that had been stuck to the paper around a message that could only be teacher's neat writing.

"_That's a good guess,_" Sara praised the four-year-old. "_It says 'Welcome New Students to Mrs. Russell's Class'._" Sara read and translated into ASL for her daughter. "_Doesn't it sound like a nice teacher? That would write and post a nice note like that_."

"_Yes,_" Emma agreed, looking at the note again then back to her mother. "_But I don't want to go._"

"_You have been going to school since you were a little baby,_" Sara reminded her, reaching over to help her daughter slide her butterfly backpack off her shoulders. "_This is the same, right_?"

"_No_," the almost kindergartener shook her head, "_Because you aren't staying with me today._"

"_That's true. But I'll be back before lunch time_," Sara assured her.

"_How long will that be_?" Emma asked, taking Sara's hand and turning it over to peer at the face of the watch that she couldn't derive meaning from yet.

Turning her hand over, Sara undid the clasp and then placed the watch around the loop on Emma's dress before moving it so that both of them to could see its face. She pointed to the small hand then the 11, and then waited for Emma to look at her. "_That means 11 o'clock_," she explained. "_And that means 20, so at 11:20 in the morning, I will come back to pick you up._"

"_But how long is that_?" Emma asked, looking at the watch again.

Sara smiled; looking at the little girl's knitted brows. She loved curiosity that would creep across her face; it reminded her so much of her husband when he found himself intrigued by a case or an insect, and most often now a days, by something his children were doing. "_It will be in three hours. But, you know, in school, they will teach you how to understand clocks and time. Did you know that_?" Sara asked, appealing to her daughter's love for learning and knowledge.

"_They will_?" Emma asked, sliding her hand into her mom's. _"What else will they teach me_?" She asked, signing one-handed.

Sara got to her feet and began walking Emma towards the door again, "_Well, they will teach you about Reading, and Drawing, and Writing, and making friends."_

"_My name!_" Emma exclaimed, pointing to a hook that had a name plate taped above it. Excitedly, the little girl pushed her coat off and hung it up on the hook, then took her backpack from her mom's hands and placed it there too. Turning around, she found her mother kneeling behind her. "_I love you,_" Emma told her, then gave her a hug and a kiss.

Sara watched her daughter push her shoulders back, doing her best to be brave, then turn on her heel and march towards the door. Pushing herself back to her feet, Sara folded her arms and swallowed. At the door, Emma paused for a moment to look down at the watch attached to her dress. Assured that it was still there, she lifted her chin again and stepped into the room.

Try as she might, Sara couldn't stop the lump forming in her throat or the single tear that slipped down her cheek. Wiping it away, she swallowed hard and ran her fingers through her hair to push it back off her face. Suddenly, she felt arms move around her waist from behind, pulling her back into the familiar shape of her husband's chest. Sara closed her eyes and leaned back into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and spearmint toothpaste. "You're supposed to be at work," she whispered.

"I wanted to come see her off, looks like I just missed her," he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Miss her already, huh?"

Sara nodded, another tear spilling down her cheek.

"Me too, honey," he soothed, giving her another quick squeeze before pulling back and turning her around to face him. "I relieved Catherine from babysitting duty. Let's go get a coffee for a couple of hours, and then we'll pick Emma up and go out for lunch to celebrate her first day of big girl school."

Sara placed her hand on the stroller where their one-year-old son was sleeping soundly, his thumb plugged into his little pink mouth. Leaning forward, she brushed sandy blonde curls off his forehead and smiled. "Okay… I might need a new watch too," Sara informed her husband and headed toward the main door for the Deaf school.

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Any Suggestions for 'L'? Send them to me via review or just let me know what you thought. Cheers.


	12. Live Laugh Love

A/N: This is _way_ unbeta-ed. Hopefully it isn't too much of a mess. I am trying to get back into the groove of this writing thing! Hope you enjoy it.

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_Live Laugh Love_

Sara stared at the picture above Grissom's toilet and read the words that were carved into the frame and accented with silver paint. The picture itself wasn't anything particularly interesting or unique. It was a simple shot of a butterfly resting on a blade of grass. The insect's wings were spread wide to expose a long shape and vivid blue markings. Her sort-of boyfriend's house was adorned by images of that particular species. However, the frame, well that was something new.

She wondered if he had received it as a gift, perhaps from some unknowing person who had picked the frame blindly, unaware of Dr. Gil Grissom's taste in decor.

_Live. Laugh. Love._ She read the words again and considered them in the context of her... Whatever Grissom was to her.

Grissom was definitely alive, but it could definitely be debated how much he truly lived. That argument could be made for anyone who worked the grave shift at LVPD. Long and strange hours definitely had an impact on their social lives... But that didn't mean they didn't enjoy themselves, did it?

They all managed to find some pleasure in their work, their friends (who were mostly made through work), and their hobbies that sometimes overlapped with a case: card games and tricks for Warrick, history and insects- her eyes flicked to the butterfly again - for Grissom, gossip and attractive men for Catherine... And they had fun as a team. They were a close team. Her mind drifted to Grissom again and wondered if he realized that. If he felt connected to them the sane way that they did to each other. A smile flitted across her face when she though of Grissom's laughter which usually consisted of a silent tiny smirk and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Love... He definitely loved his work and his bugs... She looked at the framed butterfly again and crinkled her brow, wondering why the image kept drawing her attention. It wasn't unique by any standards... There were dozens of images of butterflies- Sara paused. Maybe that was just it. It wasn't drawing her attention because it was different, but rather because she had seen it so often. This particular butterfly had been popping up with growing frequency: framed on an end table underneath a stainless lamp, as the wallpaper on Grissom's laptop- her eyes drifted away from the frame and upwards to the to stare at the ceiling corner as she recounted how many times she had seen that particular species. Over a dozen, she concluded as her eyes drifted back to the picture. Filing away her current thoughts for later exploration she went back to studying the last word on the frame. Grissom loved his mother- a tap on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Sara? Are you alright?" The man who had been occupying her thoughts spoke through the heavy oak door. "Dinner is getting cold."

"I'm fine…" her words faltered as she looked at the frame again briefly before looking down at her yoga pants and tank top piled on top of the closed toilet lid. "Just… getting changed…" She told him distantly. How long had she been standing there?

"Can I come in?"

Sighing, Sara crossed the large bathroom and wrapped her fingers around the handle before tugging the door open.

Grissom quirked an eyebrow as his blue eyes travelled over her body, still fully clothed in the outfit she had worn to work, minus one sock. "Making progress I see," he commented dryly, his eyes drifting back up to meet her brown ones.

Rolling her eyes Sara shrugged and headed back over to her clothes, removing her shirt as she went.

"What's got you so distracted in here?" Grissom looked around the room curiously.

"I was just thinking," Sara explained vaguely through the thin cotton fabric of her tank top as she pulled it over her head.

Grissom's watched appreciatively as she abandoned the task without tugging the hem down, leaving a large portion of her milky back and smooth stomach exposed. He couldn't control the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth when she unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down over her hips, revealing a chocolate coloured pair of panties that cut high on her hips revealing a fair amount of her derriere. "About what?" He tore his eyes away and forced them north up over the shape of her spine to her face as she peered at him over her shoulder, her cheeks framed by chestnut hair; she had left it curly today. He swallowed hard right before his tongue swept over his lips to moisten them.

"About…" She shrugged her thin slender shoulder and looked away from him towards the wall.

Moving forward Grissom reached out and made contact with her back gently, careful not to startle her. Sweeping his hands over the still exposed skin on her back he wrapped his arms around her a closed her into a firm hug. She came to him easily and she molded her body to his chest. Resting his cheek against hers, he waited.

"It's really stupid, Grissom. I'm just tired I guess… I don't know," she stammered, raising her hands, emphasizing her flustered state.

Silence stretched out as the man wrapped around her waited.

Taking a deep breath she shrugged, "I'm not sure…" she paused for a brief second. "I'm not sure if you love me," she whispered feeling equal parts of insecurity and humiliation for expressing it. Biting down hard on her tongue she moved to step out of his embrace, her eyes darting around the room for the easiest way to escape.

As she made a move to step away, Grissom used the momentum of her body to spin her around to face him, his hands locking around her waist, securing her against him. "Where is that coming from?" he asked, using his thumbs to stoke the soft, smooth skin of her back soothingly.

Unable to meet his eyes, Sara looked at the picture on the wall. "I don't know," she shrugged again.

"Sara…"

"I just- I got a little bit carried away with my thoughts," she rationalized. "Can we drop it?"

"Sure," he agreed, his hands drifting up her back. The look of relief on her face was brief when he continued, "After you tell me what's bothering you."

This time, when her eyes flicked over to the frame on the wall his followed. Together they looked at the artwork, her face tinged red with shame, his perplexed as he tried to figure out how this clue fit into the puzzle. Finally he settled on the small silver words carved into the frame.

"Was it a gift?" Sara asked softly, still avoiding him.

"It was… yes. From you."

"I didn't give that to you," finally she turned her face to look at him.

"Not the frame, but the sentiment. You reminded me, Sara. When I saw it I was reminded of you and everything you have brought into my life, everything that I was from life," leaning in he captured her lips with his briefly. "You brought with you a reminder to live; you taught me how to do that. And to laugh, you bring so much joy into my life. And to love…" Slowly he breathed in as he prepared to say the words that had remained unspoken between them, and then faltered.

"It's okay," Sara whispered, looking down. "I know."

"That's a… Have you ever heard of a Heliconius sara?"

"A Heliconius?" She asked, her brain trying to figure out the sudden topic change.

"No, a Heliconius sara," he clarified, his eyes were laughing again.

"That's what I said," his silent laughter was infectious and she felt her mood lighten a little.

Shaking his head he kissed her on the cheek. "The Henlinonius sara butterfly is a neotropical species. They can be found in Mexico, Brazil, the Amazon… Sometimes when I don't know how to express my feelings to you I…" His cheeks suddenly tinged red to match hers as he trailed off.

"You what?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and settling into his chest, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

"I… go online and track down an auction, or a collector and purchase a Sara Longwing butterfly" Sheepishly, the usually cool and collected Entomologist shrugged his shoulders.

"You must think about telling me a lot…" She mused, thinking about the all of the places she had spotted the species.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Let's just say I have a pretty substantial collection," he smiled softly. "I'll show it to you sometime."

"I've seen it," Sara nodded, tucking her face further into his neck. "In your office, here at the townhouse… the one in your kit."

"Sara, dear," Gil sighed, resting his cheek against her hair. "I ran out of room. You should see my mother's basement…"

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Hope you liked. Leave me a couple of words either way. :)


	13. Married

This is actually something I wrote a WAY long time ago. I needed somewhere to place it when I moved everything over to this account. Seems to line up within this ficlet journey now, since it's theme is 'M'. Thanks to Mingsmommy for beta-ing this like... Three years ago. Four years ago?

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The sun was burning the asphalt and the bees were buzzing.

"Maybe we should get married." He suggested, trying to sound casual.

She felt her eyes widen and her jaw go slack, dropping slightly. "Excuse me?"

His proposal seemed out of place, like it belonged somewhere else, to someone else.

Grissom put down wooden slat honeycomb he was holding and turned his jumpsuit clad body to face her. "I want to marry you."

"Are you proposing?" Shock. She was in...shock.

Grissom lifted off his straw hat followed by his box helmet. "I believe I am."

"Gil, if this is about the baby..."

"It is; but not all." He shrugged. "I want you to be my wife Sara. I want to be your husband. I want the whole deal: lilacs and roses and rings. I want a tux and you in a white gown...a veil." He stroked his finger over the netting of her helmet before lifting it slowly so her face and lips were available to him.

She nodded her head slightly but it was her eyes that told him 'yes'. After a moment of holding his gaze intensely she whispered. "I can't believe we're actually getting married."

"I can't believe we haven't already... nine years."

She laughed shortly as he flashed a cheesy grin and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her as the bees buzzed on.


	14. Normally

Thanks so much for clicking and (hopefully) reading. Hope you enjoy this little addition to my collection. It's something new for me, _Normally_ don't write backstory fics but I decided to give it a try. Welcome to my experiment.

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She was the last one to hand in her final exam and normally he wouldn't have allowed a student to take so much time but there was something about this one that… demanded exceptions to the rules. He waited patiently as she slowly made her way down the large auditorium steps, her usually pink complexion an ashen gray.

"Dr. Grissom, thank you for-" awkwardly, she shoved the exam booklet into his hands and turned to leave.

"Sara," his voiced stopped her before she could retreat. "I didn't get your final paper from you yet."

"Yeah, I…" she chewed on her lower lip, showing off the tiny gap between her front teeth. Her feet made a scuffling sound against the carpet on the floor and his eyes dropped to peer at her brown flip flops and red toenail polish. She was wearing an old pair of jeans that had frayed at the hem where the too long fabric had dragged on the ground. Not her usual professional attire but most students opted for more comfortable clothing on the last day of class. She was still stammering out a somewhat flustered and shy response as her adjusted the strap on her leather backpack over her shoulder when he looked up to meet her eyes.

Clearing his throat succeeded him in drawing her muttering to a close. He looked down at the exam booklet in his hands and eyed her hand writing. The large messy scrawl wasn't the typical form he would expect from a young woman such as Sara, though he had been surprised to find that there was much about her that didn't meet his expectations.

She seemed to be very intelligent, interested, analytical and studious compared to most of the other students in the class. And yet, by neglecting to submit her final paper she had more or less resigned herself to a failing grade. "I don't normally allow late submissions. Especially to students who don't find it necessary to approach me about issues with their assignment," he told her curtly, tossing Sara's booklet onto the stack of exams already piled onto his desk.

"I figured," she told him smoothly as she set her jaw and rolled her shoulders back. Her body screamed defiance but her endless dark eyes gave away her defeat. His heart skipped a beat and he wondered who this woman was, who could make his throat ache with all the words trapped there that he could only hope to express.

"Do you… have an explanation?" He found himself asking as he stepped away from her so that he wouldn't have to look into those eyes anymore.

"I…" looking down she shook her head. Lowering his eyes also he frowned at her hands balled into white knuckled fists that were wrapped around the leather strap on her bag. "No, I don't have an explanation."

"My grades are due Friday at midnight. Get it to me in time to mark it and I'll forget about the tardiness." Unable to look at her he busied himself with taking a seat behind his desk and settling in to get to work on his marking.

As if in slow motion she nodded and turned to leave him to his work. On her way past the first row of seat, however, she paused and spoke without turning back around, "Why?"

"Because we all deserve a little grace sometimes, Sara. And you look like you could use a break," his answer was low and quiet enough that he wondered if it would reach her.

Nodding again, she began ascending the stairs that would take her to the door and out of his life, possibly forever. "I hope to see you again, Dr. Grissom," she half turned, a few stairs shy of the top. "Maybe we can have a cup of coffee or something before you head back to Vegas."

Discarding his glasses onto his desk, he stood quickly, "I would like that, but-"

"_But_ you don't date students…?" The small half-smile and the sparkle in her brown eyes had returned, "I don't see any students here…"

"_But_," he continued leaning against his desk, his arms folded over his grey sweater, "You will be busy writing a paper."

He didn't miss the eye-roll or the way her chest puffed up a little as she turned her back to him. "I'll be at Joe's on campus tomorrow afternoon working on my paper if you would like to join me. If not," she pushed the door open, engulfing herself in the too bright florescent light from the hallways, "I guess we'll both regret it."

When the door swung closed behind her and clicked shut. Casting his eyes downward to the spot where she had stood moments before he felt a small smile tug at his lips. Normally he didn't date students, or ex-students in fact, he didn't necessarily date period. But there was something about this one that demanded an exception.

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Please don't forget to send a few words via review. It's very frustrating when I get hits in the thousands and 7 reviews. It takes me an hour or more to write a fic/chapter for something. It takes two seconds to review. Please do the kind thing.


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